• dynasty • | gnr | kiss | bon jovi |

•18•

At five o'clock I sit down in front of my mirror, knowing that it's time to begin my preparation for a night out with Stan. I have an unexplainable desire to look perfect, and some nagging part of me tells me that no matter what I put on I won't be satisfied.

What does Stan like, other than satin and leather? Why am I asking myself what Stan likes, what makes things so different this time?

I pick up my hairbrush and begin to draw it through my hair halfheartedly. It gets stuck in the curls like it always does.

I figure I'll wear a dress, so I change into a slip and sit back down to finish brushing. I'm dreading the exasperating search it'll be to find exactly which dress, so I draw it out as long as possible.

I'm still brushing when my balcony doors open. I startle to see Stan closing them behind himself, before he walks to the center of the room and stares at me without giving a greeting.

Alarm bells go off in my head, not because my parents could walk in and see him at any time, but because he's seeing me without makeup. I washed it all off earlier so I could start from scratch, but for some reason he's come early, and now he has to see the monstrosity that is me without foundation.

I turn away quickly but it's no use, he can still see me in the mirror.

"Stan, you're early," I whimper, covering my face with my hands. "Could you go outside again for a second? I'm not presentable."

He scoffs and strides over to the table. His hands envelop mine and gently pull them away from my face. I want to melt into a puddle as he studies my face quietly. I wonder if he likes what he sees, but that thought is nervewracking.

"Stan, stop," I whine.

A tiny smile rises on his lips. "You have freckles."

"Shut up!" I grumble and turn away quickly, retrieving my makeup bag from the drawer.

"What, it's adorable."

"Please go away, it's going to take forever to figure out what to wear. Just... wait in your car or something?"

"We're going to a drive in, so I figure it'd make more sense to take your car since it's a convertible. It's warm tonight, so you should be fine."

"Okay," I tell him with exasperation as I pour some foundation on the back of my hand.

"Lemme help you. I'll pick out a dress for you."

I swallow hard and nod to the closet. "Okay. I hope you have nice taste."

He drifts to the closet and looks over his shoulder. "And stop it with that paint you're putting on your face. You don't need that shit."

I blush deeply, grateful for the fact that he gently shuts the door after him.

I find myself going all out on my makeup, wearing dark red lipstick and dark eyeshadow. I prefer the way it looks on me, the color makes me seem more adult.

I decide to tie my hair back loosely, and leave some hanging over my shoulders loosely.

I wait there sheepishly, and when he doesn't come out I inch over to the door. I hear nothing, so I crack the door and squint into the closet. I hold my breath as I watch him drift from shelf to shelf, touching the clothes. He's already got a dressed picked out, but he seems so fascinated.

He stops at my silk valentino, and brings the fabric to his nose. He lets out a pleasured sigh.

I knock lightly and give him time to compose himself. To my surprise he doesn't stop. He takes another whiff and then lets the dress go. He turns soft eyes on me, eyes I've never seen before.